


cause

by Jamless_Tae_With_Suga_and_Kookies



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: abstract ish?, i really don’t know either, idrk what to rag, you could say experimental writing style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 05:02:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17197019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamless_Tae_With_Suga_and_Kookies/pseuds/Jamless_Tae_With_Suga_and_Kookies
Summary: jisung is and that’s all he knows





	cause

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by vinxens song cause which greatly helped me write this. thing.
> 
> i don’t really know what to say... this was supposed to be writing practice with a different style than i usually do so...? enjoy

jisung is cold. 

is it because the room is cold, or is it just his body being too shaken, too broken, too less human to feel warmth? is he even in a room? 

jisung doesn’t know.

(“hey boy. it’s cold.”)

jisung is alone. or is he? is anyone every really alone, or is loneliness just an illusion the mind projects on the weak, weak minds of any living creature? 

maybe the loneliness is just his imagination. maybe jisung is in a room filled with hundreds of thousands of people. maybe jisung isn’t at all.

who is he? 

the boy opens his eyes. stares. blinks. wonders. 

“just breathe” the voice says. the boy obliges.

breathebreathebreathebreathe. 

jisung holds his breath. something is wrong. 

but what is something? is something the fear gnawing at his mind? is something the pain he feels, in his brain, in his ankle, in his heart. is there even a something? 

“what even is existing?” the boy asks.

the voice doesn’t answer.

jisung sighs. he sits up. he looks.   
he sees nothing, nothing but black, deep and endless and dark. it feels like it wants to swallow him. maybe he wants to be swallowed.

is he blind? wasn’t there light and colors just seconds ago? 

he scoffs, the tone of his voice bitter. huh? when did he become bitter? 

the boy stops breathing and tries to remember, but nothing comes up, no memory, no thought. he is empty, emptier than anything he recalls.

but wait, he doesn’t recall anything at all, does he? 

the boy takes a breath after seconds (minutes? hours?) of not breathing. the air in his lungs is too little, is too thick and too wrong for his body.

he coughs, gasps, frantically tries to get more and more and more. his head spins.

“stop.” the voice commands. and so the boy stops. 

he looks up again (when did he look down?) and stares into the mirror. where did the mirror come from? 

“go there, boy. try it.” the voice urges, greed the boy is oblivious to lacing it.

jisung carefully crawls closer, calculating, considering. something tells him the mirror holds great danger, can suck his soul and destroy him until nothing but tiny, unrecognizable pieces of him will be left.

“touch it, come on.” the voice coaxes him again, sound poisonous and threatening to etch into the boys young skin. 

jisung knows something is right, has been there before, has seen the pictures behind the mirror, has felt the pain of losing yourself and your sanity. 

the boy frowns, yet he obeys. he lifts a hand to touch the glass, expecting to sink into it, land in the magic world beyond. 

whispers of the voice fill the room, fill jisungs ears and drown out any other sound. was there any other sound? 

(“yes yes yes yes.”)

“jisung!” a new voice calls, and the magic is over. 

the boy turns, eyes wide and fearful, the screeching of the voice nearly deafening and yet not overpowering the gentle lilt from somewhere else in the room. 

jisung turns, barely noticing the heaving of his chest. is he scared? or is he relieved? there a tears in his eyes and he doesn’t know why.

why why why why why why...

“chenle?” he croaks, opening his eyes.

it’s gone- the magic, the mirror, the darkness, the voice, the loneliness, the cold. 

staring up at a white ceiling, he shivers. did he feel cold? how could he be, wrapped up in several layers of warm clothing and a blanket. 

he coughs. something is off. maybe he was just imagining things. 

“yeah, it’s me- you’ve been napping for quite some time and you need to take your medication soon. come on, sit up we don’t want to forget taking it again!” the new voice (chenle?), chirps. 

the boy breathes. blinks. sits up. 

“ah right. the medication.” he says.

all is well. or is it?


End file.
